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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22559149">Brace Yourself</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabakholi/pseuds/Rabakholi'>Rabakholi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Talk, Dry Humping?, Flirty Jaskier, Groping, Jaskier gets manhandled, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Smut, Swearing, i guess?, so are the boys, tagging is hard y'all</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:14:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22559149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabakholi/pseuds/Rabakholi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What were you thinking?”<br/>Jaskier wanted to answer but he was too busy trying not to fall on his face, as he stumbled through the dark.<br/>“Didn’t you notice they were trying to get to you?”<br/>“Of course I did, I’m not stupid.”, he mumbled. And then he squeaked, as his body collided with a tree; Geralt shoving his back against it, to be able to face him.<br/>“Please repeat that, I think I misheard.”<br/>While Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn't hurt him - beyond the occasional punch he probably deserved anyway - the look on his face and the pure fury in his voice had him worried.<br/>“I’d rather not.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>829</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Brace Yourself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt was seething. The tavern was loud and full, patrons stacked to the roof, all coming to see the mighty White wolf. But being ogled wasn’t why Geralt was desperately trying to hold on to his sanity.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>It was that fucking bard.</p>
<p>That one bard, that had not only wormed his way through Geralt’s walls and didn’t take any of his moods seriously, but also managed to aggravate him by simply not being next to him, by his side. Which, is a yet unexplained phenomenon, as Geralt didn’t want anyone’s attention. He didn’t need anyone, and he was glad no one needed him.</p>
<p>No one, but that fucking bard. He turned everything around and now his skin itched and his fingers wanted to tousle his hair and find out if it was as soft as it looked. Geralt had whole dreams about his eyes, those deep blue seas that always seemed to see right through him. </p>
<p>That fucking bard, who was currently leaning against the bar, ale in one hand, grinning at the people around him, laughing with them. Enticing them, luring them, getting their fucking attention. Geralt’s blood was well on its way to boiling. How could Jaskier ignore him? He wanted to be the only one the bard looked at, ever. Not the blonde guy next to him whose hand smoothed down his arm nor the dark haired woman on his other side who looked at his bard as if he was prey. </p>
<p>How could he do that, how could Geralt accept the scene playing out in front of his eyes? Letting them touch him, their hands all over him, their eyes raking down his lithe body, hungry and lusting, their intentions clear as day and filthy as the dark alleys of this godforsaken town. </p>
<p>It didn’t matter if it was a man or woman, Jaskier had them all in his pocket. And they loved to be there. At least until the first glamour wore off.</p>
<p>But that’s only where his best traits began. Jaskier was smart, kind, compassionate, and <em> so soft. He </em> was all Geralt wasn't, kept all his best traits hidden from the world - and Geralt wanted to lay him open, strip him bare in every way possible. Wanted to learn his body and his soul, with his fingers, his lips, his <em> cock. </em> Geralt groaned at the thought of the small bard writhing on him, moaning and <em> screaming. </em> His voice had captured Geralt's attention long before he was aware. He'd dreamt of it. He'd fantasized about the noises he could lure out of Jaskier, if the young man just <em> let him. </em> Had dreamt about how he'd take him, make him sing for <em> his ears only.  </em></p>
<p>His brain delivered the fitting pictures, and his sanity snapped like a twig in a storm. </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Jaskier was enjoying himself and the attention he got – something he felt his travel companion failed to give him -, when a hand grabbed his coat and pulled. He lost his balance, tumbled back and sloshed ale everywhere; his adoring fans right in the middle of it.</p>
<p>Oh. Great.</p>
<p>The two of them looked pissed, ready to throw fists, when Jaskier realized who exactly had pulled him away. That was the exact moment his face drained of all blood and he gave them a tiny, nervous smile. He really hoped they wouldn’t start a fight; this wouldn’t end well and this tavern was one of those that actually served good ale and passable food. Would be a shame to get banned.</p>
<p>So he glanced at Geralt, whose hand was still fisted in the material of his jacket and – oh god.</p>
<p>His eyes were aflame. There was no other way to call it. It was terrifying and so was the clench of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. It looked like he was sniffing them out – well, if he did, he just had gotten a good whiff of Jaskiers nervous arousal.</p>
<p>“Move.”</p>
<p>Jaskier didn’t even try to suppress the shiver that ran through him at the gravelly voice; it was futile, really.</p>
<p>The bard had just barely gotten his feet to obey, when another hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Both Jaskier and Geralt looked down, heads snapping, eyes widening. But while Jaskier was astounded at such idiocy, Geralt was short of pulling out a weapon and cleaving that dude into the floor.<br/>“Hey, we aren’t done having fun yet!”<br/>Geralt took a step forward, his size and height intimidating on their own, but paired with the eyes and the hair and the reputation – Jaskier hadn't seen him like this, ever before. This was whole new level of fury, of anger, the emotions radiating off him, broadcasting his intentions, if that fucker didn't back off. Geralt was feral and Jaskier was trying not to piss himself. He wasn’t even target of Geralt’s anger. At least he thought so.</p>
<p>“<em> Let. Go.” </em></p>
<p>“I think the little bard can speak for himself.”<br/>There was a growl vibrating deep in the witcher’s chest, his free hand curled into a fist, the hand on Jaskiers back shifted to his neck; almost a possessive display? Jaskier wasn’t sure, but he also didn’t get to intervene or think about it any longer.<br/>Geralt had had enough.<br/>With an ugly snarl, he took another step forward, shielded Jaskier and rammed his elbow into the other guys arm, broke the hold he had on the bard and then, no hesitation, let his fist collide with his jaw.</p>
<p>By the time the stranger had hit the floor, Geralt had grabbed Jaskier by the back of his neck again, and left the tavern.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>“What were you <em> thinking </em>?”<br/>Jaskier wanted to answer but he was too busy trying not to fall on his face, as he stumbled through the dark.<br/>“Didn’t you notice they were trying to <em> get to you </em>?”<br/>“Of course I did, I’m not stupid.”, he mumbled. And then he squeaked, as his body collided with a tree; Geralt shoving his back against it, to be able to face him.<br/>“Please repeat that, I think I misheard.” <br/>While Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn't hurt him - beyond the occasional punch he probably deserved anyway - the look on his face and the pure fury in his voice had him worried.<br/>“I’d rather not.”<br/>Geralt was right in his face, the hand on his chest holding him in place.<br/>“Did you not think of what could happen to you?” <br/>Jaskier snorted. “Oh, trust me, I did.” He licked his lips, manic smile stretching his face. Something in him had snapped. What did he care? Wasn't like it affected him in any way. “Who told you I didn’t want it?” <br/>Geralt reared back, quick enough to make the Bard flinch. His chest was heaving, his hands in fists at his side. With a grunt he turned on his heels, stomped away.</p>
<p>Jaskier was breathing hard just the same, but didn’t really know if it was arousal, anger or fear. Maybe it was a bit of everything. His hand rubbed over the spot were Geralt has held him, his eyes on the floor. Of course he’d be disgusted. The bard knew that. Why did it still hurt then? <br/>“No.” <br/>Huh? Jaskier looked up, just in time to see Geralt descending upon him like a wild animal. Then there was lips on his, heat, slickness, a tongue teasing him. Hands were on his body, running down his sides, squeezing when they found his waist, moving to the small of his back and his cheek, to haul him closer. <br/>Geralt’s voice was like a thunderstorm – captivating, gravelly, electrifying, absolutely wild. “No. You don’t <em> get to do </em> that.” <br/>The hand on his back was sneaking down, grabbed his bum and pulled groans from both of them. <br/>“You don’t get to come into my life, make me <em> care </em> about you, <em> protect </em> you,-“ a vicious nip to his lips, then his head was moved, turned to the side so Geralt could easily access his neck; continue his assault there. <br/>“-fucking burrow your way into my brain, heart-“<br/>Hips rolled against his, dick against dick. Jaskier thought he was dying. What in the world?<br/>“-into my fucking <em> dreams </em>.” <br/>Geralt pulled back, eyed Jaskiers clothes. With a grunt he reached for the jacket, pulled it off his bard and then there were hands on hips, fingers dipping into breeches and Jaskier thought he was gonna pass out. Maybe, just maybe, Geralt wasn't exactly as disgusted as he'd first thought.<br/>All the while, Geralt was groaning and moaning directly into his ear, with that fucking voice of his. <br/>“You don’t <em> get to </em>.” <br/>Geralt whirled Jaskier around, pressed a hand between his shoulder blades to make him bend at the waist. “Brace yourself.” <br/>If Jasker hadn’t popped a boner the very second his back had hit the tree, he would now, at the latest. He liked being manhandled by Geralt, the big bad witcher showing him so obviously, so blatantly, that he did care. That he did feel <em> something </em> for Jaskier. <br/>So he followed his lead. Hands against the three, head low to watch the witcher’s legs, ogle those delicious goddamn thighs all he wanted. If he also arched his back and shoved his ass back into Geralt’s grip – who could blame him?<br/>A groan, from behind him. A hand gliding from the back of his thigh up, dipping between his legs, just for a second. Hot breaths against his neck, a hotter body aligned with his own, blood rushing in his ears. <br/>“Look at you.” A smack, then a bite at his shoulder, a soothing lick. Jaskier’s buttcheek stung, but he loved it. He was getting <em> goddamn giddy </em>with excitement, giddy at the possibility of Geralt being serious about this. And if not - he’ll get a couple good fucking orgasms out of this. He ignored how his insides churned at that, ignored the sting at the thought. He preferred to be in the here and now, enjoy whatever Geralt was ready to give. <br/>Said man was pressed along the line of his body, hips nestled against his ass in a way that made the bard wish he was naked and ready, and possibly equipped with the ability to stop time forever. The hands were wandering again. Up his legs, over his hips, slipping underneath his untucked shirt- Jaskier let out a breathy moan, let his hips move against the broad man currently driving him crazy. <br/>His nails scratched, fingers tippity-tapped, and then Geralt kissed right behind his ear and pinched his nipples. Which almost made Jaskiers knees buckle – fucking hell. <br/>“You’re so <em> infuriating </em>. So fucking annoying, with your big pretty eyes, and those fucking lips.” <br/>His right hand came up, wrapped around the bards throat, the thumb found his lips. “So fucking soft, I bet they’ll feel great wrapped around my cock.” <br/>Lips were brushing the shell of his ear as the witcher continued: “I know they'll <em>look fucking divine</em>.”<br/>Jaskier couldn’t hold back. He wouldn’t. <br/>“Geralt, please-“ <br/>“Shut up.” The harsh, commanding tone had him weak, his dick twitching in his pants. <br/>The hand around his neck squeezed and then shifted, enough to grab Jaskier’s jaw - fuck, how <em> huge </em> were his hands? - and turn his head. Geralt captured his lips in a bruising kiss, noses bumping, neck straining but, oh royal fuck, this was Jaskier's personal heavenly hell. <br/>The hips pressed into his ass rolled, Geralt's dick nestled against Jaskier’s – he could feel the size of him and holy fuck. <br/>Geralt broke the kiss to bite his lower lip, then nip at his jaw and breathe a moan against his skin. <br/>“Please.” Jaskier was out of his mind. He'd lost all orientation, body and mind hyperfocused on the bulking figure pressed against him, the man playing him like his favourite instrument. He loved it, loved how good it made him feel, how wanted, desired, cherished. <br/>Geralt's hand came back around his throat, the weight of it heady and promising. It was a total show of dominance and strength, and it warmed the bard from the inside out, burnt him, until he was begging for Geralt like a man dying.<br/>“Please, Geralt, <em> please. </em>”<br/>A growl, low enough for the bard to feel it. “You want to <em> say </em> something?” #<br/>Geralt’s free hand undid the laces on the bards breeches, then found its way into them and cupped Jaskiers dick. “You want to be <em> loud </em>?” <br/>The bard whimpered, pressed his eyes closed, completely lost in the sensations. <br/>“You want<em> to sing </em>?”<br/>A hard tug, a bite to his neck, then Geralt’s lips against his ear. He sounded like a man driven mad, anger mixed with frustration, desire and the need to claim Jaskier, <em> mark </em> him as his and make sure the bard <em> knew it. </em> <br/>“I will <em> make </em> you fucking sing. You will be so sore tomorrow, you’ll <em> beg </em> for some relief. You won’t be able to perform <em> for a week </em>, when I’m done with you.”<br/>Jaskier was shivering now. He was barely able to stand, not with the heady mix of a rough hand in his pants and rougher voice in his ear, hot breath on his skin and hotter body against his. It was too much. It was too much and still he wanted more. He wanted this borderline feral man to take him and never let go again. <br/>“When I’m done with you, you will be just as lost as me.”<br/>Geralt huffed out a laugh, humourless and gave a sharp thrust against Jaskiers ass. <br/>“When I’m done with you, you won’t know <em> your own name </em> . You will be <em> mine </em> , and no one will dare to <em> ever </em> touch you again.”<br/>Jaskier’s eyes were rolling back, his dick straining against Geralt's big, calloused hand. He was dripping precum, made a mess of his breeches. Geralt tutted at his whimper, bit the shell of his ear, lowered his voice to a lethal whisper.<br/>“I will <em> ruin </em> you, all you will be able to think about is <em> me </em>. You. Are. Mine.” </p>
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